


Alone Under the Starlight

by LittleLynn



Series: Don't Go [6]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Thranduil had become a doting and protective father to them, Thranduil has become a protective, ada thranduil, the bardlings growing up, thranduil has become a doting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 21:31:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3183869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fine.” Bard sighed, getting ready to outline his rules, but before he could a drowsy voice spoke.</p><p>“Courting a king’s daughter without permission, terrible. He can’t have you, he’s not good enough.” Thranduil protested.</p><p>“You’ve not even met him.” </p><p>“Doesn’t matter, he’s still not good enough. Couldn’t possibly be.” </p><p>Sigrid beamed at the Elvenking’s affection, Bard knew he held her with as much love as if she were his own. He did for all Bard’s children. But watching the way Sigrid smiled at his kind words made his heart squeeze.</p><p>“No unchaperoned dates. No outings after eight. No sneaking out. And absolutely no husband for at least five years.” Bard reeled off.</p><p>“Twenty.” Thranduil grumbled against Bard’s chest, making them both grin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone Under the Starlight

**Author's Note:**

> Part six is here! As usual can be read as stand alone, but I think it works better in series :)

 

 

It was the height of summer and in the sweltering heat the people of Dale had made the collective decision to go down to the lake for the day. It wasn’t really too hot to work, but given that Bard too fancied the cool waters of the lake, he was hardly going to begrudge his people the opportunity.

They often did things collectively like this. But when you had been through the horrors of Dragonfire and huge battles together, you usually found yourself in a closely knit group. And there weren’t very many of them either. Having lost so many, the survivors of Laketown were a tightly woven pack by this point.

It was the combination of this, and his and Thranduil’s truly limited time together that had stopped Bard worrying about the people of Dale discovering their relationship. He refused to waste any of the precious time they had together hiding. If the people of Dale had a problem with it, then he would happily stand down as king.

But he would never stand down from Thranduil’s side. Not until the day he died.

As it was, people had stared at their newfound obvious intimacy. Handholding was something Thranduil was especially fond of, and he seemed to take great delight in being able to do it anywhere.

There had been staring, and a little gossiping, but really they had accepted it and moved on to the next thing far faster than Bard had anticipated. He had been ready for at least a few hateful comments, but none came.

Thranduil had suggested that their relationship had had the opposite effect than expected on the people of Dale, that their fondness for their king outweighed their dislike for same sex relationships and had instead, made them as a people far more excepting.

So by the time the height of summer rolled around, no one spared them so much as a spare glance as they lay on the large and long fishing pier the people of Dale had built, lounging in the summer sun, Thranduil’s sleepy head pillowed on Bard’s stomach as Bard read to him.

Thranduil being Thranduil, had of course insisted on bringing a mass amount of luxury pillows with him so he didn’t have to lie directly on the dirty pier, Bard had smiled at him with exasperated fondness when he packed all the cushions, but he had bought enough for their whole family, and Bard couldn’t begrudge him anything anyway.

Sigrid was sitting a little away from them, laughing with her friend, her feet dangling happily into the water as she kept an eye on Tilda as she swam around in the cool water, she would make an excellent mother one day. All the children of the Lake learned to swim at a young age, it had been too risky not to.

And today their little family unit included a visiting Legolas; when Thranduil had received the letter from Legolas telling him he would be returning home for a few week he had been unable to keep the smile off of his face for a whole week. Bard knew he had missed Legolas dearly, but understood that he needed to forge his own path. You could not baby someone who was thousands of years old, even if you never really grow out of being someone’s child.

Legolas was currently off somewhere with Bain. Promising Bard to keep an eye on his son as he agreed to take him into the forest for a little archery practice.

“Legolas always wanted siblings.” Thranduil had disclosed sadly as Legolas went off with Bain. “But he was still young when his mother died and we had not yet had more children.”

“Well, now he does.” Bard smiled down at Thranduil before pecking a light kiss on the end of his nose and going back to reading aloud, leaving the elf smiling that small, content smile that lived on his lips so often now.

It was getting late in the afternoon when Sigrid plopped herself down next to Bard and Thranduil, who was now completely asleep against Bard. Bard could only smile as he ran his fingers through his fine hair.

“Da?” Sigrid started, looking and sounding a little more tentative than was usual for her.

“Yes darlin’?” Bard asked, looking up from the sleeping elf to meet his daughters eyes, she looked a little nervous. “What’s wrong?” he prompted.

“Um, well, I feel I should tell you, I think I’m being courted?”

“What!?” Bard exclaimed, trying not to jostle Thranduil too much. “He should ask my consent before he attempts to court my daughter. Who are we talking about anyway?”

“It’s Rainar.” Bard deflated slightly at hearing the name of Sigrid’s best friend since childhood.

“Do you want him to court you?” Bard questioned, as far as he was concerned, that was really the only relevant thing here, Sigrid nodded shyly.

Rainar was a boy with a heart of gold who had obviously been developing deeper feelings for Sigrid for a while now. Bard still remembered when they found out each other had survived the dragon and battle, to be honest, he’d probably seen it then, just didn’t want to think about it, Sigrid was still his little girl. Rainar had fought in the battle, and done so bravely.

No one would ever been good enough for his children, but he had to admit, he was glad it was someone like Rainar.

“Fine.” Bard sighed, getting ready to outline his rules, but before he could a drowsy voice spoke.

“Courting a king’s daughter without permission, terrible. He can’t have you, he’s not good enough.” Thranduil protested.

“You’ve not even met him.”

“Doesn’t matter, he’s still not good enough. Couldn’t possibly be.”

Sigrid beamed at the Elvenking’s affection, Bard knew he held her with as much love as if she were his own. He did for all Bard’s children. But watching the way Sigrid smiled at his kind words made his heart squeeze.

“No unchaperoned dates. No outings after eight. No sneaking out. And absolutely no husband for at least five years.” Bard reeled off.

“Twenty.” Thranduil grumbled against Bard’s chest, making them both grin.

“Da, ada, I’m eighteen years old. It is old enough to marry.”

“Five years.”

“Two.”

“Four.”

“Three.”

“Fine three.” Bard relented, knowing that he would not really stop her if they were in love.

“Agreed.” Sigrid said, grabbing her dad’s hand as if it was a business deal he was not allowed to back out from. “Most of us are going back to Dale now, are you two coming?”

“Nah, I think we’ll stay down here for a while. Are you alright taking Tilda back?”

“Of course. If I don’t see you, night da, night ada.” Sigrid smiled, placing a light kiss on each of their foreheads as if she was their parent, and not the other way around.

She scooped up a fairly tried Tilda and hoisted her up, giving her a piggy back back to Dale. She really was going to make and wonderful mother one day.

As the next few hours passed, people slowly dissipated from the lake. Legolas and Bain appeared from out the woods, Bain was looking at Legolas with something akin to hero-worship, and given that Bain had Legolas’ own bow slung over his shoulder, Bard wasn’t surprised. But what really got Bard, was the fond way Legolas was looking at Bain.

After another few hours later it was dark and they were the only ones left on the pier, lying back on all of Thranduil’s pillows and looking up at the stars. Thranduil liked to tell Bard about the stars and the Valar, and Bard liked to listen to the music of his voice and the soft rhythm of his words.

Their stargazing dissolved into languid kissing as it often did. And as they often did their languid kissing turned slightly more passionate and heated as Thranduil rolled himself on top of Bard, trapping him beneath him. Bard had always though Thranduil’s eyes were even more beautiful than the stars.

“Maybe we should be thinking about getting back.” Bard sighed into Thranduil’s mouth, reluctant to leave, as it felt like they were in their own little world, but aware that it was getting late.

“Maybe. But then, I never went for that swim.”

Thranduil rose up from their little nest of cushions and Bard stared as he temptingly slipped off all of his gowns and layers, letting them pool around his feet before stepping out elegantly. Thranduil stood there naked, cock half hard, and practically leered at Bard, before turning and giving Bard a perfect, unobscured view of his lush ass as he dived gracefully into the water.   

Bard was practically drooling as he watched Thranduil resurface, hair wet and slicked back, accentuating his long neck as water travelled down its length.

“Well, my Dragonslayer, are you going to join me?” Thrandul teased, eyes glinting in that way that only ever meant good things. Very good things.

Bard tore off his clothes and got into the water, far less elegantly than Thranduil had, but he only laughed when the errant splashes of water caught him. Bard attacked his laughing mouth, which was difficult given that they were treading water.

“This is going to be difficult.” Bard muttered as he attempted to tread water with one hand and get his other hand around Thranduil.

“I have an idea.” Thranduil responded, mischievous look firm in his eyes as he swam Bard back into the pier.

Bard wrapped his arms around Thranduil’s neck as he was backed up, and Thranduil held on with his hands to the pier.

“Put your legs around my waist.” Thranduil instructed and Bard was more than happy to comply, bringing them together under the water.

Together they worked out a rhythm, rutting against each other like horny teenagers desperate for release. But as Thranduil panted into his mouth and looked into his eyes, Bard knew he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Bard loosed one arm from around Thranduil’s neck and wrapped his hand around the both of them, rubbing them together and sliding his hand over the slits. Thranduil groaned into his mouth, biting at his bottom lip and his hips started thrusting into Bard’s hand.

A few light squeezes of Bard’s hand and Thranduil was coming between them, moaning Bard’s named as he mouthed at his neck.

“Get on the pier.” Thranduil gasped, regaining his control.

Bard awkwardly pulled himself up, erection still straining, but as Thranduil climb out after him and sank his mouth down on his cock, he was hardly complaining.

“Gods” Bard gasped as Thranduil took him straight down his throat. “Warning?” He panted.

Thranduil just smiled and hummed around Bard, which made Bard jerk in his mouth. Thranduil bobbed his head, doing _things_ with his tongue and not a couple of minutes later Bard was mumbling a warning (not that that ever did anything but encourage Thranduil) and coming down Thranduil’s throat.

Thranduil swallowed every drop as he always did, before licking his way up Bard’s chest, kissing him soundly and collapsing half on top of Bard in their nest of pillows.

By the time they made it up to Dale it was the small hours of the morning and the collapsed happily on their bed, not regretting a thing.

\--------------------------

Three years later, their little family was gathered around the very same part of the lake, swimming and spending time together, the day before Sigrid’s wedding.

When Sigrid had announced her formal engagement, Thranduil had quickly transitioned from scary over-protective ada, to far too busy with the wedding planning to worry about anything else. Bard knew he loved it, as he watched Thranduil make sure every single little detail of Sigrid’s day would be absolutely perfect.

Thranduil had whisked Sigrid away a few months ago into Mirkwood, where he had gathered the most accomplished seamstress’s Middle Earth had to offer, and Bard watched with his heart squeezing as he personally assisted with the design and even sewing of her dress from scratch.

It was made from elven silks with intricate detailing and tiny flakes of precious gems sewn into it. When Sigrid moved in it, she looked like a star glistening in the night sky.

Bard also knew that Thranduil had taken personal responsibility for the bride’s hair, promising to weave it into beautiful braids and tresses for her big day.

Recently Bain had been taking on more and more of the king’s duties around Dale. He was far more adept at the job than Bard was, and bard had never really wanted it anyway. But Bain was getting older now, within the next five to ten years, Bard would gradually hand over his responsibilities as King to his son, transitioning easily into a new ruler.

Bain listened eagerly to the lessons on ruling that Bard gave, and even more closely to the far more insightful ones Thranduil gave. Despite still being relatively young, he had a good rapport with the few councillors Dale had and he had always gotten along well with the people of Dale. Also it did not hurt that they knew the part he had played in slaying Smaug. Bard couldn’t have done it without him, they were a team.

Perhaps the reasons Bard was so keen to cease being king were selfish, but he didn’t care, and Bain was taking to the job like a fish to water. But even the few duties Bain had already taken up were freeing his time and making it easier for Bard to spend more and more time with Thranduil. And time was so precious to them.

Much of the time, Bard and Thranduil effectively lived together, just in two different kingdoms. There was peace between Mirkwood, Dale and Erebor, so it was easy to delegate many of their tasks as kings and spend their days together, alternating between homes.

Both felt like home to Bard now.

The people of Dale did not comment because it was not effecting his ability to rule, and they were too close a group to turn on each other now, especially for love; so they allowed their king to be alternatively absent.

The elves did not comment because it was not in their nature to question their king. And they understood how valuable the little time Thranduil and Bard would have together was.

So they became the King Consorts of Dale and Mirkwood, joint kings of two kingdoms in so many ways.

Tilda was growing up fast. A few years earlier she had entreated her father to take her with him to Mirkwood, curious to see the halls of the Woodland Realm and home of her ada. Thranduil spoiled her rotten really, and at the sight of them happy together braiding hair and telling stories, Bard couldn’t find it in himself to mind.

She had been completely and utterly smitten with the elves and their halls and their way of life. These days she carried many of the characteristics of the elves, despite being so small in stature.

Upon her shy request that Bard had seen visibly melt Thranduil’s heart, he had taught her to braid her hair like the elves did, although he often did it for her anyway, whenever he could. He bought her clothes and trinkets distinguishable as elven, but especially made for Tilda’s stature.

Thranduil had also been teaching her elvish upon her request; ‘Da, its Sindarin. Not all elvish is the same.’ She had explained to him with a smile when he had found Thranduil teaching it. They often ganged up on him and teased him in elvish words he didn’t understand. But he didn’t mind, with the way they would giggle together, how could he?

The other elves in the halls of Mirkwood delighted in Tilda, children being so rare among them Bard had been shocked at the level of emotion generally expressed towards her. But then, Bard had learnt that contrary to general opinion, elves were quite far from cold. They felt deeply and they felt forever. Making it in some ways even more surprising that they welcomed Tilda into their hearts even more freely.

Tilda often spoke of Tauriel teaching her to fight one day, to which Bard smiled and replied ‘one day’, he would never begrudge his daughters learning to defend themselves. Many of life’s horrors did not differentiate between men and women.

Bard knew in his heart, that when Tilda was grown and down with school, she would likely ask formally permission to move to The Woodland Realm. He also knew that they would welcome her without hesitation.

Bard didn’t know how the world had accidently given him this life, but as he walked Sigrid down the aisle, with Thranduil looking at them with such stark love in his face, he wasn’t prepared to question it.

Thranduil and Bard danced together, locked up in each other’s arms long after the Bride and groom and very last guests had left, kissing freely, alone under the starlight, like they had all the time in the world.

If only that was true.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to prompt, fangirl or just say hi in my askbox on [Tumbles](http://obithefabulous.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Part seven shan't be long, my lovelies :)


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